


Okay

by WahlBuilder



Category: Moebius: Empire Rising
Genre: Asexual Character, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5960143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shouldn't have agreed to David's proposal. It's foolish, and Malachi feels even more foolish on their wedding day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a sequel to [How to make you believe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4984240).

 It was weird.

At least he managed to make David put on a suit he has bought for him, because — _no, David, a T-shirt and jeans won't do_.

_What's wrong with a T-shirt and jeans?_

Nothing. Nothing is wrong, except _we are getting married_.

The woman who... registered and led the whole thing was giving them weird looks. Malachi tried to imagine how they looked together: David with a perfect serene smile of Mona Lisa and he himself who couldn't stop fidgeting, avoiding meeting the woman's eyes, as if he was a criminal. Or something.

He felt migraine balling behind his eyes.

A part of him — a tiny, tiny part — definitely felt like he has stolen a precious jewel, all to himself.

When it was over, the woman stared at them expectantly — _oh, right, people usually kiss each other when it's over,_ — but David, his smile never wavering, nodded to her, took Malachi by the elbow and turned away.

And they left.

And now he's sitting in the living room of their apartment — he has stopped trying to remind himself that it is _his_ apartment, not _theirs_.

So, he's on the couch in their apartment, his leg cramping from nerves, which hasn't happened to him since high school. David, the greenish-blue tie forgotten on the back of the couch, is rummaging through the DVD collection by the TV set, and there are cartons of Chineese takeout on the low table between them, standing like small barricades.

"What do you think about maraphoning _the Lord of the Rings_?"

Damn him. Damn him for picking Malachi's favourite movies, for being so serene and stubborn and funny, for turning Malachi's world upside down. All the time.

"Is that it?" he asks quietly.

David turns to him, _the Lord of the Rings_ half-taken out of the fancy box. "I have a chocolate cake in the fridge, if you want it right—"

"That's not what I meant!" He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists. "People kiss on their wedding and have sex on their wedding night, it's what they do!"

It was foolish, stupid all along, he should have never agreed to it, he should have stopped it. No relationships, no dating, that was his rule, not that anybody would ever want to be with him, but it was okay, until David—

He nearly jumps out of his skin when a warm palm touches his knee.

Malachi opens his eyes, and it's like that night when David proposed... offered... Whatever.

"You don't like being touched."

Oh. He noticed. Well, right, Special Forces, he's brilliant — not nearly as brilliant as Malachi himself, though...

"I would never do anything you wouldn't like or want. It's okay, Kye." And his eyes are so damn earnest and serious. The simple band of gold on David's left hand catches light of the city, and Malachi's own left hand twitches, the ring heavy and solid on his finger. "We can eat takeout and watch the movie and then ravage the cake right from the box. I don't mind. It's really okay."

"Just... just take off the suit, you would ruin it."

David smiles and, as usual, it makes his eyes seem even more blue. Incredible.

"Should I return it?"

Malachi frowns. "What? No. It's yours, I bought it for you, idiot."

"Alright. But you should change into something more comfortable, too." David stands up and Malachi hates himself for missing the warm weight of his hand.

"Okay, mommy," he grumbles to hide his embarrassment.

And David is not helping, saying, "Not 'mommy'. _Husband_."

And then they are sprawled on the couch, Malachi's head on David's shoulder, and there is half-eaten chocolate cake — with chocolate sponge and chocolate icing and chocolate chips, — and Legolas reveals that the Strider's name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn.

And maybe it's really okay.


End file.
